Iridescent tribute (spin off FanFic)
by dark.dendrite
Summary: A spin off of PaigeK9's amazing Rick/Morty hurt/comfort story 'Iridescent', in which Rick is trying to cope with a younger, traumatised Morty.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1: Nightmares**

This story is a spin off of PaigeK9's incredible hurt/comfort FanFic 'Iridescent', in which a younger Morty (9 years old) has suffered immensely at the hands of Jerry following Beth's suicide, after which Summer moves away to live with his Grandma (presumably Jerry's mother, not Rick's ex). Rick came looking for Morty to use him as a shield, only to find him locked away beneath the house. Jerry has since fled and Rick has moved his lab into the house. He is struggling to cope with a mute, traumatised Morty who has dog like tendencies.

I highly recommend you read Iridescent – it's amazing! Thank you to PaigeK9 for creating such a unique and heartbreaking alternate reality for the characters we know and love.

This Chapter is a tangent from the opening paragraphs of Iridescent Chapter 10: The Beacon.

 **s/11561843/10/Iridescent**

Context: Rick and Morty are home after an adventure gone awry – Morty ran from Rick in an alien world following a flashback to his abuse. After Morty panicked and hit Rick, then tried to run again, Rick was verbally cruel to Morty. Out of guilt, he allowed Morty adopt a dangerous alien puppy on the way back. We open with Morty asleep at Rick's leg as he works on an invention, frightened to leave him in case Rick abandons him after his previous behavior.

Rick turned his attention back to his ray gun, methodically turning a loose screw with quiet care. The last thing he wanted to do was wake Morty and have to endure him playing with the 'puppy' again. Clingy and asleep, but out of his way, was far better than having to constantly check on a naïve time bomb letting a yaught hound gnaw on his fingers.

Rick suddenly felt a series of small twitches and turns at his leg, followed by whimpering and shallow breathing. His heart sank as he peered down at his grandson. Morty's brow was furrowed, sweat beginning to trickle down toward his pursed lips as he periodically cried out against some unknown force, gripping Rick's lab coat as if it were a life raft. He gently rubbed his grandson's head, hoping to calm him as it always did. But the touch seemed to make it worse. Morty was too entrenched in his nightmare, and he let out a sharp cry and flinched away within seconds of Rick's fingertips touching his scalp.

Rick stomach began to bubble with rage, wishing the people who had left his Grandson too haunted to sleep were here now so he could shoot every one of them with his soon to be finished ray gun, obliterating a small part of Morty's trauma.

But he knew the lasting memories of the abuse would never go away. He felt a deep hole in himself, knowing he couldn't shoot away what had happened to his Morty.

Rick took a deep swig from his flask and watched powerlessly as Morty fell on his side, rocking and trying to cover himself from the attack of invisible hands, crying and panting in frustration. Out of the corner of his eye, Rick noticed the green yaught hound curiously wandering toward Morty's sleeping form. He leapt out of his chair, protectively looming over the small boy. The hound stood still but Rick didn't dare turn his back on it. He stepped between Morty and the animal, pointing firmly to the kitchen, instructing the hound to retreat so he could deal with Morty.

The hound cocked its speckled green head to the side before flinching, alarmed, as Morty let out a wail. The puppy whimpered in response.

'Don't you fucking s-start. Jesus.' Rick muttered, rolling his eyes as the dog cowered in tandem with Morty.

Morty cried out again, this time louder as his sweat began to drip onto the carpet. Rick's stomach wrenched at the possibilities Morty might be reacting to. He couldn't imagine the things Morty had endured and he'd been trying hard not to, but the wails were getting more pained. It was impossible to drown out, and it was agony to listen to.

Morty yelped and the puppy let out a sharp bark, startling Morty into consciousness at Rick's feet. Before Rick could get hold of him, Morty's wide, fearful eyes darted up to the hulking figure towering above him and he clambered up to run for the door. The puppy bolted after him and Rick was forced to give it a sharp kick to the side, sending it scurrying off.

It was enough that Morty might be on the street within seconds, let alone a ferocious interplanetary killer.

Morty's drenched, shaking hand fumbled around the handle as Rick lifted him off the ground. Morty screamed and kicked, failing to recognise Rick as his Grandfather, still overwhelmed by whatever horrible memory had crawled it's way into his mind that night.

Morty's little feet managed to land decent blows into Rick's stomach, knees and liver. Rick slowly got a grip on all Morty's limbs, cradling him, pinning his feet and hands together while managing to get a free hand over Morty's mouth. Morty shut his eyes tightly, sobbing and refusing to look at what he still perceived to be an attacker.

Rick steadily moved Morty's shaking form over to the couch, sitting down with the child in his arms and rocking him soothingly.

'Its Grandpa Morty. JURRRst me.' The burping sound and familiar smell of Rick's lab coat washed over Morty as he opened his eyes, blinking confusedly.

After a few moments of blurry light from the work bench, Rick's characteristically neutral face came into focus. Morty's breath slowed, his chest heaving tiredly as he stopped struggling and stared up at Rick.

'That's right Morty. You're at home. It's just me and you. N-no one else. It was just a nightmare. Okay? You calm now M-Moooorty?' Hearing Rick's trademark infliction of annoyance in his name, callous to anyone else, was like home to Morty, and reality sank in.

But he wasn't calm. Morty nodded back to Rick as a few tears started to slide out of the corners of his eyes.

Morty was really tired. He was tired of adventures, he was tired of second guessing Rick, he was tired of the constant reminders of being tortured in his own home, he was tired of knowing there was nowhere he could feel safe.

Morty didn't sob, he couldn't. Instead he looked away from his Grandfather, fixating on the floor defeatedly as the realisation that while it was a nightmare, the assault he'd remembered had happened. He could still feel those filthy hands all over him, even through the nice new clothes Rick had brought, even through his comforting hold and kind words.

Rick grew concerned. He'd seen his grandson frightened, angry, hysterical, confused, ashamed but never depressed. Depression had a unique look of futility and bleakness, one a small child should never know. But it was written all over Morty's big brown lidded eyes as he contemplated the futility of trying to get past everything that had happened to him in his incredibly short and so far, unrelentingly cruel life.

'M-Morty.' Rick said, shifting his Grandson's weight slightly so he could get a free hand toward his flask. He didn't know if he'd be able to cope with any conversation Morty could muster.

'Morty.' Rick repeated, taking a small swig as Morty remained silent.

'I-it's okay Morty. G-grandpa's not goOOOOHing anywhere. Morty. We'll get through this. It will take a while. But we will. Okay?'

Rick wasn't prepared for how deafening the silence would be as Morty turned both his tear filled eyes toward him, staring right through any alcoholic barrier Rick had and connecting deeply with his own misery. The reflective gaze of himself in Grandson's pained eyes was too much for Rick. He instinctively pulled Morty as tightly into his arms as he could, fearful to let him know he was the one panicking now.

Most of all, he was scared that the familiar little skip his heart had done just now meant he was beginning to feel real love for Morty, which means Morty could be taken away, and it would hurt. He pushed that firmly aside for now, taking a long guzzle at his flask and letting his mind numb. He had to be in control for Morty.

Rick wished Morty would sob or cry - even bite him in anger. But he didn't. Morty just lay limply in Rick's arms as Rick desperately tried to emotionally resuscitate the boy by resting his chin atop Morty's fluffy head and telling him it was going to be okay. Rick carefully pulled his Grandson away from him to observe any change. There wasn't any- just Morty, staring emptily into his blue under shirt with tear stained cheeks.

Rick felt an unbearable guilt eating away at him. He needed to help his Grandson, he couldn't stand this. It worried him, he'd seen this behaviour moments before some of his closest friends had taken their own lives. This is how he felt when he'd considered doing the same.

Beth.

The thought of Beth stabbed at his throat, throbbing in his chest. He needed do say something, do something. It had been so long, what would help? He'd forgotten, he'd pushed it all out but now he needed to remember. Rick closed his eyes as he numbly stroked his grandson's back. He thought back to Beth as a child. She had been having a nightmare. A ghost of himself, now unrecognisable, even in his mind's eye, had held his daughter, kissed her worried forehead and told her he loved her.

Rick opened his eyes.

Morty felt his Grandpa straighten him up, and expected to be carried upstairs and put to bed. He wasn't prepared when he felt the wet touch of being kissed on his forehead. Automatically, fear shot through Morty's extremities. Kissing was bad. Kissing meant pain, the worst kind of pain. After all this time, was Rick going to start this now?

It was the jolt Rick had expected. Morty's eyes, now fearful again, peered at him- paralysed, waiting for the abuse he knew all too well. Rick softly rested his forehead against Morty's, careful to be very gentle. He felt Morty shudder and give a small whimper at the uncharacteristic closeness.

'I love you Morty. I'm never going hurt you because I love you.' He then pulled away, placing Morty safely on the couch. Rick was sure to let his palm linger on Morty's head, running his fingers through Morty's hair a few times, a touch he knew to be safe, to reassure him before returning to his gadget. He hoped desperately it had worked, nervously watching Morty in the reflection of the window.

It took a few moments for Morty to understand what had been said, and that nothing more than that was going to be done to him. That this was good. He blinked dumbfoundedly for a good minute, wanting to be sure he had judged correctly before getting his hopes up. At that moment, his puppy placed its head next to his leg, lapping at his hand comfortingly.

Rick had allowed this dog to make itself a home here. Rick had rescued him from the basement, Rick had taken care of him, fed him, clothed him, bandaged his feet, held him when he was frightened.

Rick had lost his temper sometimes too. He had hurt Morty.

But his Grandfather had just told him he loved him. Morty's head was spinning as he turned to look out the window and caught sight of Rick looking worriedly at him.

Rick was _so_ worried.

No one ever looked at him that way before – it had to mean something good.

Morty's heart swelled in his chest- he felt brave and for the first time in so long, he felt okay. The happiness was exhausting and dizzying. Morty wandered over to Rick's table and threw his arms around his Grandfather, who he felt sink comfortably at the touch.

'Je-Jesus Morty, throw yourself a parUUURade why don't you.' Rick teased, gingerly patting his Grandson's back before Morty turned to leave Rick in peace, playing with his puppy.

But secretly, relief was washing over Rick, a relief more powerful than his flask. He never wanted to see Morty that way again, and he realised he had to try harder. And that, surprisingly, he wanted to.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2: The Doctor**

Takes place right after Iridescent's Chapter 10: The Beacon.

To understand the doctor you need to read Chapter 7 of Iridescent

s/11561843/7/Iridescent

But you should have read the whole thing already. Because it's amazing and this is but a humble spin off. We begin with Rick and Morty having returned from yet another adventure gone awry, this time at the fault of Rick. The Galactic Federation invaded a ship they were looting after a distress beacon, and Morty witnessed Rick killing police. They are now home after a tense ride back in Rick's spaceship.

Rick mindlessly placed his plate in the sink, still going over the events of the day in his mind.

 _How did he get here. A kid, a puppy, dishes. Jesus. Dishes?_

Rick tried not to think about it as he went back to the table. Morty was still trying to lick his plate clean as Rick pried it from his grasp.

 _At least the little fucker didn't growl this time_. Rick thought to himself as he threw the plastic bowl in the sink. The knowledge that this Grandson was behaving less like a dog when he wanted to communicate motivated Rick to keep encouraging Morty to speak.

Morty got up to clean the yaught hound's bowl, smiling that the puppy was doing as he would- ferociously licking the crumbs, wary of anyone who tried to come near it's meal. Out of respect, Morty sat quietly away and waited for the hound to lose interest.

Rick cautiously watched them out of the corner of his eye. He was confident Morty's strange ability to completely empathise with dogs, despite never having had one- as far as he knew Morty only imitated the idea of what he thought to be a dog- was what had saved him from being attacked so far. The hound was still a pup, but when it got a little bigger Rick would have to watch more closely, and was prepared to separate the two if he had to.

Morty picked the bowl up and brought it to Rick for rinsing as the dog wandered away, flopping contently into a pile of blankets Morty had made a bed out of.

'G-good Morty. Good job. Do you know what this is?' Rick tried, holding the bowl up.

Morty nodded wearily as a slightly annoyed expression settled over his usually anxious face. He knew this routine well and was frustrated it was persisting. It was a bowl. He knew that. He wasn't an idiot.

'What is it Mooooorty?' Rick asked, waving the bowl back and forth as if it being in motion would magically restore Morty's ability to speak.

Morty's eyelids dropped cynically as his mouth curled into a slight frown. He crossed his arms over his chest and glared at the waggling bowl. Rick promptly stopped, amused.

'J-Jesus Morty. You've expanded your emotional range to pissed pants AND pissed off. Impressive, but when you can say 'bowl' I'll really be-'

DING DONG.

The sound of a doorbell that never rang was ear splitting, and both Rick and Morty jumped on hearing it. They'd been alone together for weeks now and had forgotten that society existed, or that it knew they did. As Morty started to tremble, Rick quickly calculated the possibilities of who it might be.

Door salesmen, Mormons, an irritating new neighbour...a whole array of Earthly bullshit that didn't warrant obliterating the door and whoever was behind it at 9pm on a Saturday. That would only invite more unwanted attention.

He weighed up the notion it was someone Morty knew, or had known in a previous life, before he was locked away. Jerry's mother and Summer. How would he explain a silent, skinny Morty and a green dog?

Same went for child services, the police- an endless revolving door of bureaucrats responding to any number of useless complaints people may have called in after hearing Morty screaming from time to time, or seeing them coming and going at bizarre hours with dangerous looking gadgets.

Lastly, the worst option, leftover 'customers' of Jerry's. Rick had no problem killing them but would need to invite them in to do so. Killing them out on the doorstep was too risky at this time of night. He turned back to Morty, who was wringing his hands raw.

'Knock it off Morty.' Rick said hurriedly, pulling Morty closer to him and forcing him to maintain eye contact as the doorbell sounded again. The hound barked loudly and Rick quickly took his blaster out and shot a freeze ray at it. Before Morty could squeal Rick had his hand over his mouth, explaining the dog was frozen temporarily, not dead.

One less thing to worry about.

'Listen to me M-Morty. We're both going to go see who this is before we open the door. If it's someone 'bad'' Rick raised his hands to do finger quotes, before gripping Morty's shoulders again to hold him in place, 'You do NOT run. You do NOT scream. You l-let me know Morty. I'll deal with them.'

Morty nodded, tears welling in his eyes at the realisation he might be about to meet one of the frequent headlining acts in his recurring nightmares. He trembled under Rick's fingers, accepting that he now had to place all his trust in Rick. He prayed Rick would do the right thing- that money in exchange for his pain wouldn't be tempting to someone who had cared for him so well thus far.

Morty glanced toward the basement door, visible from the kitchen, and whimpered as his whole body shook.

'Hey!' Rick grunted, shaking Morty loose of his impending panic attack.

'No. That's never h-happening again Morty. Don't screw this up or we're both in a whole woURGHrld of, of shit Morty. Do you understand?'

The doorbell rang again and Morty closed his eyes, nodding as a few stray tears plopped onto his shirt. Rick held his Grandson's forearm tightly as he led them both into the living room. Rick peered into the door's shiny peephole, and found it to be a male stranger. No uniform, definitely not Summer or Granny. He feared the worst, but needed Morty to confirm before he acted. And he needed to do it quick. He lifted his Grandson up to see, waiting for the telltale reaction.

Morty shakily peered through the door and felt his blood turn to ice. His stomach dropped, it felt like the world was spinning, he was choking on whatever air was left in his lungs.

It was Dr. Gabriel Fletchinder. He was just standing there, checking his watch. Morty was paralysed as months of abuse flooded his waking memory. He heard the muffled sound of Rick saying his name as the doctor looked up and stared directly at Morty, smiling disturbingly.

Rick speedily placed Morty on the ground after hearing choking noises and turned him around. Morty was more terrified than Rick had ever seen him. It was sickening to see a small child this horrified. Morty's eyes bulged from their sockets, tears now steadily falling out of them as his wide, gaping mouth struggled to make even the smallest inkling of a sound. Morty's entire body shook, he refused to take his eyes off Rick's, desperately hoping for his Grandfather to read his mind and understand.

It took a few moments for Rick to collect himself and speak to his broken Morty.

'M-Morty. I-I know this is a bad person M-Morty.' Rick said quietly, hoping Morty could hear him.

'I'm going to open the door and freeze him. You see this? You, you remember this?' Rick said, taking out his gun as Morty stared blankly, still in a state of shock.

'I can't kill him on the street. I have to get him inside. There are people out there, jogging, watering t-their fucking stupid lawns. Letting him in is the only way M-Morty. But he won't get you. I'm here.' Rick scanned Morty's face for any hint of recognition and found none. He sighed. This would have to be lightening quick.

Rick grabbed the doorknob as Morty fell to the floor, his knees buckling.

'Don't. Run.' Rick said firmly before opening the door.

The young man on the other side stood confidently tall, smiling at Rick in a hollow way that immediately irked Rick into a deep-seated distrust. The man extended his hand toward Rick, who shoved down his desire to rip this person apart before he got him inside.

He had to play along. He would explain to Morty later.

'You must be here for Jerry, to take the boy?' Rick said in an eerily calm tone as he took the Doctor's hand, who upon hearing the words finalised the handshake before stepping inside.

'That's right! Haven't seen you before? I see you're also a man of science-'

Dr. Fletchinder stopped mid-sentence as he locked eyes with Morty, who instantly wet himself and spiraled into a panic attack, too terrified to move from the wall.

The doctor had time to process that Morty clean, well cared for and clothed before he turned to run, just as Rick slammed the door shut and fired his freeze ray. Dr. Fletchinder had turned away from the ray and was frozen at a terrible angle, his teeth beared, his eyes maddened, his arms extended.

Morty gasped for air as the hulking frozen figure loomed above him, casting a shadow onto his wet pyjama bottoms. Rick rushed over to his Grandson, scooping Morty up into a tight embrace and carrying him out of the room. He determined Morty hadn't seen enough of the freeze ray, so he didn't understand what was happening.

Like he had done many times before, he rocked Morty in his arms, telling him over and over it was just a panic attack- that it would pass. Morty kept gripping at Rick's shirt to pull himself up and check the doctor was still frozen. That he hadn't snuck off somewhere to hurt his dog.

His nightmare was right here in the house. The worst person to have ever hurt him was right there and Rick had no idea how bad he really was. Morty stared up at his Grandfather desperately as thoughts continued to race through his mind.

He wondered what Rick would do if he knew who the doctor was and what he had done. Who he'd let stand downstairs from the blue starry lamp that had calmed Morty to sleep, the person who was standing metres away from Morty's dog and the food Rick cooked him every morning. Morty's mind boggled as to how to warn Rick about what the doctor was capable of.

What if Rick didn't believe him? What if Rick let the doctor come on their adventures because he thought he was smarter and more useful than Morty? What if Rick decided Morty was better off as an experiment and they teamed up to hurt him?

Morty continued to stare into Rick's unrelentingly neutral face. He wished it looked different- gave more away, but it didn't. So he sobbed hopelessly, bitterly; overwhelmed at the possibility that Rick might hurt him if he knew he could be used for science, which he seemed to care more about than anything. He tried to find the words to make his case, pushing them out hard.

'R-Rick.' Morty croaked, his Grandfather immediately pulling him to sit up on his lap, concerned.

'P-p-please. R-Rick...no. R-Rick. No. P-please.' Morty continued to sob, stuttering 'please' and 'no' and 'Rick' over and over. They were the only words he could remember how to say. Morty felt angry at the futility of his words. He knew they didn't work. They had never worked in the basement.

He hated that he couldn't talk properly, that he couldn't fight them off if they did decide to work together, that whenever he ran he was caught. Morty cried softly and hoped his judgment was right as Rick's strong arms held him. Morty tried to shake the notion that the arms that held him could just as easily hurt him as Rick stroked his head.

Rick was keeping his Grandson's face down and pressed firmly into his chest so he wouldn't be able to see Rick's own face. Rick swallowed hard at Morty's wrecked little attempts to speak, fighting back tears that threatened to spill their way into Morty's hair. He knew Morty feared that he was going to be put back in the basement, that this awful person would be allowed to assault him, that Rick would want the cash. It hurt to know that still, his Morty didn't trust him, but at the same time Rick was proud of Morty for being smart enough not to.

What pained him most of all was the reality of what had happened to his Grandson had reared it's ugly head and was now demanding to be confronted. The sexual assaults, the beatings, god knows what else. How he handled this would either heal Morty, if only slightly, or traumatise him further. He had to know who this person was, what he did. He wanted Morty to know he knew and condemned the actions but not Morty himself, that he wouldn't stand with these people and that he understood it wasn't Morty's fault.

He would prove to Squanchy, to himself, and to Morty, that he could be better.

'I'm n-not going to hurt you, Morty.' Rick finally said, squeezing Morty gently as he watched Morty stared back at the doctor.

'He's frozen. I want you to tell me who he is. Wha-what he did. I need you to talk to me. I need us to stURRart dealing with this shit because it's ruining your life.' Rick's last words came out slightly trembled, as his sweaty and tear stained Morty continued to stare over at the doctor, now fixated.

Suddenly Morty sat bolt upright, pointing to the floor nearby where the doctor stood. Rick peered over and saw a book on the floor where Morty was pointing. The doctor must have dropped it before he was frozen.

Rick stood up and sighed when he felt Morty cling to his side, not wanting to leave his protector for a second. As Rick walked over Morty stopped breathing, making himself as invisible as possible around the horrible man who had hurt him so much. Rick picked up the book and carried Morty back over to the couch, away from his frozen tormentor.

The average sized black notebook was worn with use. The leather cover was nondescript and wrinkled from being folded, and the pages smelt vaguely of chemicals as Rick peeled it open. Morty decided to move to the other couch and curl up, watching Rick cautiously. He didn't want to be too close to his Grandfather when the reality of what was in the book became apparent.

He knew Rick was about to find out everything.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3: Subject 276**

Follows on from my Chapter 2 (The Doctor). Gets dark here :(

Subject 276.

Physical information:

\- 3'3

\- 35 pounds

\- 7 years old

\- Male

Preexisting conditions:

\- Malnourished

\- Poor hygiene

\- Existing wounds from closed living conditions and lack of sanitation

\- Slight bruising around neck, head, legs and chest

\- Possible UTI

\- No STDs

\- Severe anxiety and PTSD

\- Selectively mute

Lab notes

23 Jan

\- Subject attempted to escape via picking the lock on his cage. Cage door now electrified. Didn't deter subject.

\- Subject reacts angrily to experiments on dog subjects. Multiple attempts to break out of his cage despite electrified door.

\- Stopped only when threat of severely harming a dog present. Will use this ongoing as disciplinary measure.

24 Jan

\- Subject appears to have nightmares, relating to existing trauma.

\- Subject given two doses of phencyclidine to see if trauma will be enhanced through controlled hallucinatory state.

1st controlled period- 9am-11am

\- Subject blindfolded

\- Mentally placed subject in basement with attacker.

\- Subject urinated, shallow breath, vomiting, screaming, crying. Unclear what the trauma he is experiencing consists of.

\- 'No', 'stop' and 'please' spoken.

2nd controlled period- 1pm-3pm

\- Subject blindfolded

\- Mentally placed subject in basement with attacker.

\- Subject responds to being hit over the face and chest with passivity.

\- Will tense body repeatedly as a reflex even in sedated hallucinatory state.

\- Subject can withstand great amounts of pain with no verbalisation, including burning, electrocution and whipping.

3rd controlled period- 5pm-8pm

\- Subject blindfolded

\- Mentally placed subject in basement with attacker.

\- Subject responds to sexual contact aggressively, will

Rick slammed the book shut after biting a small hole in his cheek, the metallic tang of blood staining his palette. He tried to push out the mental image of his Morty, even younger and more vulnerable than he was now, being abused and threatened in a state of drugged panic and fear for this sick fuck's useless experiments.

Rick felt the world spinning, his stomach dropping, his blood running cold. He had no idea it had been this bad. This was on par, or worse, than what himself and his friends had experienced as adults in the throws of war. A child had no hope of coping with this kind of sadism.

The nagging thought that he'd never be able to fix this, that he couldn't begin to make up for the horrors Morty had endured, was accompanied by seething rage at the doctor and at Jerry. But most of all, Rick was deeply concerned about Morty's health. He forced himself to open the book again and skim through the pages, catching glimpses of recipes for dangerous, experimental drugs. These experiments, the side effects, the injuries, could have had a lasting impact on Morty's physical health, let alone mental.

Liver damage from sedatives, cancer from a constant barrage of unapproved chemical concoctions, tumours, ulcers, brain damage. Rick swallowed impending vomit as he tried to push out the reality that things he wouldn't inject into rats had been poured into his Grandson. He needed to get him to a hospital.

Morty watched nervously from across the room as the colour continued to drain from Rick's face. He wondered if he should comfort him, but he also feared that Rick was disgusted with him because of the things in the book. Morty knew he was dirty and bad, but he wasn't sure if Rick felt the same. He hoped he didn't. He hadn't asked for these things. Morty pulled on his hands nervously, wishing his puppy was unfrozen. He had to be prepared to run if Rick turned against him. The suspense was unbearable as Rick continued to flick through the pages Morty knew contained graphic descriptions of his sexual and physical assaults.

He looked down self-consciously at his wet pants, trying to block out the horrible memories from the book as he covered himself. Morty felt so ashamed that his Grandfather had to relive these things. He held his head in hands, curling into a ball. He was bad, he was nothing.

Rick stalled on a page that had diagrams of an electrical circuit. The heading had him frozen, desperately hoping the conclusion he'd drawn was wrong.

CLOSING NEURAL PATHWAYS FOR SPEECH WITH CONDITIONING (BASELINE EXPERIMENT)

04/08

\- Placed electrical nodes on subject

\- Placed first dog on table, subject never seen dog before

\- Commanded to speak, subject did not comply

\- 200 volts applied to dog

\- Commanded to speak again

\- Subject complied, full sentence spoken

\- 200 volts to subject

\- Commanded subject to speak, clear threat to dog

\- Subject complied, full sentence spoken

\- 250 volts to subject

\- Commanded to speak, clear threat to dog

\- Subject complied, 3/8 words correct

\- 400 volts to dog, dog died quickly

\- Subject distressed

\- Explained subject's mistake responsible for death

\- Subject understood

\- New dog, also never before seen

\- Commanded to speak, clear threat to dog

\- Subject complied, full sentence spoken

\- 250 volts to subject x 2

\- Subject wet himself

\- Commanded to speak, clear threat to dog

\- Subject unable to comply, 1/8 words

\- Threatened to electrocute dog, subject distressed

\- Subject unable to comply within time limit, 0/8 words spoken

\- 400 volts to dog, dog died quickly

\- Subject vomited, too distressed to continue.

\- Will repeat.

Rick's shaking fingers discovered pages and pages of his same experiment over days. He stood up and violently threw the book across the room. This was why Morty was unable to speak. He physically could not. It was a miracle he got out the words he had.

'GOD DAMN IT YOU SON OF A BITCH!' Rick screamed, punching a hole in the wall.

Morty immediately jumped and fled behind the couch, hiding and waiting to see who Rick was mad at. It was him, it had to be. Morty knew this was all too good to last; it was only a matter of time before it fell apart. He waited for the heavy stomping of Rick's feet, but instead they grew further away. Morty ran through the kitchen, coming out into the hallway and peering around a large vase.

He jumped as Rick hurtled the doctor to the floor. Morty wrapped his hands over his own mouth to stop a gasp from escaping as Dr. Fletchinder smashed into a thousand tiny pieces. Rick stomped on the fragments, screaming and cursing. After a short while, the doctor was nothing more than melted blood and tissue. Rick dropped to the floor, punching the carpet, tearing holes in it as if ripping apart the fragments of this person would undo what he'd done to Morty.

Rick suddenly stopped as he realised the futility of what he was doing, his yells becoming sobs. Morty was shocked. He'd never seen Rick cry. Morty walked nervously into the hall, preparing for Rick to round on him next, call him disgusting, tell him he didn't want to see Morty, tell him he was leaving. His Grandfather looked up at him, tears streaming down his tired face. Rick's grey hairs stuck out like live wires, his hands shook and bled from the force of beating the doctor into the carpet. Morty felt frightened, like he was nearing a wounded, wild animal.

'Mo-Morty.' Rick choked, 'I'm s-so sorry, sorry M-Morty. I'm so s-sorry.'

His Grandfather wept into his hands as Morty rushed over, climbing into the gap between Rick's elbows and the floor. He just barely managed to lift Rick into a sitting position, hugging him around the neck. It was bittersweet. Morty was incredibly relieved Rick was angry with the doctor and not him, but simultaneously disturbed at having seen his Grandfather rip someone apart limb from limb. Now Rick was in tears- a state of shock and sadness Morty had never seen, which could only mean he cared deeply for Morty and understood how painful his past had been. He wondered how much more Rick could take of what was in the notebook- if he would leave because Morty's past was too hard.

For now, Morty decided he was happy to be here with a person who would stand up for him. He tried to be brave, and show his Grandfather the same comfort he'd been shown. He felt Rick's shaking start to subside as Morty nuzzled into the nape of his neck.

'We'll g-get past this Mor-Morty. We'll get past t-this. It's okay. I-it's okay. We're okay.' Rick kept repeating these words, trembling as he sat back on his knees to embrace Morty.

What felt like an age passed, with Rick recognising he was talking to himself too- trying to convince himself that like Morty, he could get past the horrors of this own past. Morty had no flask, Morty had no family or friends, Morty had experienced loss and pain on par, if not greater, than what Rick had been subjected to. But here he was; showing love, willing to trust Rick despite it all.

In that moment Rick not only felt a deep kinship with Morty, but admired him immensely. If he could survive the doctor, he could survive anything.


End file.
